Shopping was boring. Which was exactly why Maverick had hired out the decorating of his home so many times.
To make it more torturous, whenever it appeared Daisy-Mae had found a suitable desk and he’d offer to bring the truck around, it would send her and his mom into further fits of hemming and hawing.
He was pretty sure he’d seen every desk in every antique shop within sixty miles of Sweetheart Creek. And now they were in San Antonio, looking at office furniture so sleek and modern there was no way he could ever see Daisy-Mae using it. He was starting to believe they were messing with him.
“I think I like the one we saw in the first store,” Daisy-Mae said thoughtfully, and Maverick held in a groan.
She burst into a sunny smile after a shared look with his mom, then gave him a playful nudge. “Just teasing! I’m buying Mrs. Fisher’s old desk.”
The third one they’d looked at. Because they hadn’t just looked in stores today. Nope. They’d crawled the used ads online as well. In and out of houses all across the countryside.
“I’m going to check next door again,” his mom said, zipping out the glass doors and back to the neighboring antique shop, leaving them to trail after her.
Unable to help himself, Maverick asked Daisy-Mae, “Then what was all of this about?” He gestured to the modern furniture behind them, then more generally, thinking of all the ground they’d covered.
“Mrs. Fisher told me to see if I found anything better, and then to let her know what a fair price would be if I still wanted hers by the end of the day. Now I know.”
“So you didn’t need me and didn’t need my truck?”
She wrapped her arm around his waist as they reentered the antique shop, his mother already deep into the store. They stood near the entrance, waiting for her.
“Of course I needed you. What if I’d found something better and I needed to bring it home immediately?”
“I think we bored the photographer to tears,” Maverick said, empathizing with the man who’d been shadowing them for the past several hours. He was leaning against an old bookcase, stifling a yawn.
“I suppose being domestic isn’t very exciting.”
Domestic.
A second date wasn’t supposed to be domestic.
It was supposed to be as sexy as her outfit—tight jeans and an oversized Dragons jersey with his name and number printed on the back. That outfit had given him feelings. But not a single one of them could be described as domestic.
“Your mom?” Daisy-Mae whispered. “You haven’t told her, have you?”
“She knows we’re dating.”
Daisy-Mae gave him a look. Why couldn’t they just say they were dating? Why did they have to keep reminding each other that they had started seeing each other for a reason other than romance?
He gave a small shake of his head. He hadn’t told his mom that a game was afoot. Because if Daisy-Mae fell in love with him, it wouldn’t matter what had motivated them to go on their first few dates.
Daisy-Mae frowned. “Well, let’s make sure she doesn’t find out we’re sort of lying to her. She looks really happy.”
She did, too. She’d practically been floating through the stores, laughing, cheerful and full of energy.
“Maverick!” His mom beckoned to them from near the checkout counter along the left wall.
“I think she found something else for you,” Daisy-Mae teased.
He rolled his eyes. The shopping trip for Daisy-Mae had been more fruitful for him with his mom collecting items for his house in nearly every store.
Maybe that was the real reason she was so happy. He’d let her decorate, and today he was present, weighing in on her ideas and decisions.
Why hadn’t he made time to do this sooner? His mom had sacrificed a lot to ensure he got all the same hockey opportunities the other kids got, even though it was just the two of them. She’d taken extra shifts to get the right days off in order to take him to tournaments, driving late into the night or starting the day unreasonably early to save on hotel costs. His mom had been caffeine fueled most of his childhood, and how she’d pulled it all off, he still didn’t know. She had lots of little tricks, like if she was baking muffins, she tripled the recipe and froze the extras. And she’d kept her hair super short in what he thought of as hockey mom hair so she could roll out of bed, quickly style her damp hair with her fingers on her way out the door at some ungodly hour, ensuring they made it to his team’s scheduled ice time. His mom was his greatest supporter and always had been.
It had taken a lot of subterfuge and clandestine phone calls to pay off her mortgage for her as well as to get a plumber and electrician in to update her pipes and wiring—without her blocking him and refusing his help.
But his time and presence? That was what she really wanted. And it was the one thing he had in short supply but should never deny her.
“What did you find?” he asked, giving his mom’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he came up alongside her.
She was beaming at a large dining room table. Wood. Old. Heavy. Stained sort of orangish-red. It looked almost as ancient as the state of Texas. He liked it.
“Would this fit in your truck?” she asked.
“I thought we weren’t going to buy stuff for the living room and dining room until the floors are done.”
She waved a hand. “The floor guy had a cancelation. He’s sanding and refinishing it tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“You’ll need this for Friday.” She flipped over the price tag, reading the item’s history even though Maverick was certain she’d already committed it to memory. “We can put this in the barn until the floor is done.”
“Why Friday?”
“Thanksgiving.”
“Thanksgiving’s on Thursday.”
“How much to have it delivered?” she asked the salesman who was hovering, sensing a sale was about to be made.
“There’s room in the truck.”
“Then we’ll take it,” she said. “And the eight chairs, if they’re included.”
“They are.”
“Excellent.”
“What’s Friday?” Maverick asked.
“We’re doing Thanksgiving.”
“We are?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. She turned to Daisy-Mae, who’d been standing a few feet away. “Are you busy Friday?”
“No?” She looked at Maverick, and he hated she had to check in with him about family events. He wished it was assumed that she would be there, at his side.
“Of course she’ll be there,” he said. Catching himself, he added, “Won’t you?”
“At your place?” she asked, again hesitating.
“Yeah.” What was the holdup? Was she suddenly nervous about their masquerade in front of his mom? Was sharing holidays going too far?
His mom squeezed his arm. “Your woman-free zone?” She gave Maverick a pointed look like he’d wiped his nose with the back of his hand rather than used a tissue. Or forgotten to say thank you. Or, in this case, hadn’t yet invited his girlfriend over to his house. His sanctuary. A place where he could be himself with no one there to muddy the waters and twist him into something he wasn’t.
“It’s Thanksgiving. It’s an everyone zone,” he said, hoping he didn’t regret his words.
His mom smiled in approval. “Great. There will be nine of us, so we need to round up another chair. I think I saw one similar to these in that store back in…” She snapped her fingers, trying to recall. “Daisy-Mae, what was the store with that funny rooster statue Maverick hated?”
Daisy-Mae tossed out possibilities until his mom nodded. “That’s the place. There next. After we load up. Then we’ll take this all back to Maverick’s barn so we’ll have room to go grab your desk.” She patted the counter. “Pay the man, hon.”
As Maverick opened his wallet, he figured he should be annoyed by the way his mom had taken over today, as well as invited Daisy-Mae into his woman-free zone. And yet, somehow, he couldn’t quite seem to get there.
Same with his boredom. While he hadn’t been interested in the items being considered in the various stores, he’d enjoyed watching his mom and Daisy-Mae connect and become what he thought of as friends.
He smiled as he took his receipt, not even minding that Daisy-Mae would be invading his home. In fact, he could already picture her working in one of the upstairs bedrooms on Mrs. Fisher’s old desk. That was, if she didn’t just curl up on a couch by the old brick fireplace in the living room. He’d have to make sure he bought a suitable couch for working on—not too soft. She’d definitely spend some time working there before they’d have to build an addition onto the house when they needed to turn her office into a nursery.
* * *
Daisy-Mae was nervous.
She ran her hands down her skirt again before retrieving the cupcakes from the passenger seat. She noted the heaves and cracks in Maverick’s front walk as she navigated her way closer to his woman-free zone. He wasn’t that far outside Sweetheart Creek, and his hundred acres were off the beaten path enough that nobody had discovered him out here. His homestead was small by Texas standards, but she could tell by the way he talked that he liked it.
There was a modest barn behind the house where they had unloaded his furniture purchases last Sunday and where he parked his Mustang. The old structure had been pressured by gravity for decades and had a slight lean to it, as though it may eventually decide to lie down for a rest if Maverick didn’t do something about it. Beyond that was pasture and a small herd of cattle, which she knew was his. And in front of her was the cutest, shabbiest looking farmhouse she’d ever seen.
She stopped, taking in the house. On the weekend, they’d zipped past it in the truck and she hadn’t had a chance to give it a proper assessment. It had a wide porch along the front, complete with a swing. The dusty windows had fake shutters with design cutouts that matched the gingerbread carvings at the roof’s peak and the corners of the porch pillars. During its prime the home had probably graced the covers of magazines, and it warmed her heart to know that a man like Maverick had bought it and would restore it to its former glory.
The front door swung open, then the screen door, which twisted wildly as one of its hinges let go. Maverick grabbed the door before it fell, unhooking it so he could lean it against the home’s faded yellow wall.
“I guess Mom’s right—Dak and I should have fixed the screen door when we were fixing the main one.”
“Your house is adorable,” Daisy-Mae said, still taking it in. It needed paint and a little TLC, but she could see its potential and exactly why he’d bought it. She hadn’t even stepped inside, and she was smitten. As neglected as this home was, it made her own look like an uninspired rectangle plunked down in the hot, dry scrubland.
She wanted to live here. Even though the screen door lacked the ability to keep out bugs and critters.
“Adorable. Just what every man wants to hear,” Maverick said, coming to join her. “Whatever happened to calling homes manly or stately?”
She curled into his side, lifting her cheek for a kiss. “Are you going to keep it yellow? Because pink would be cute.” She grinned up at him and he landed a light kiss on her lips, then quickly came back to land a second, slower, deeper one.
With a hand on her lower back, he gazed up at his house. “No pink.”
She inhaled gleefully as her mind made a connection. “The cupcake cottage.”
“Sorry?”
“The cupcake cottage.” She peeled back the lid from the container in her arms. The pastel icing on her cupcakes matched the faded paint. The swirls she had decorated echoed the carvings on his house. “You live in a cupcake.”
He snatched one, peeling its paper liner. “You copied my house. The cupcake came second, meaning my house is not a cupcake.”
“Hey, these are for dessert. And anyway, doesn’t Athena have y’all on sugar restriction?”
“Don’t tell my mom. Or Louis. Or Athena.” He took a giant bite out of the cupcake. His brows lifted in surprise and he let out a contented sound. “These are fantastic.”
“I know.” She put the lid back on the cupcakes and brushed a dab of frosting from his chin.
He edged closer, his feet bracketing hers. “Where else do I have some?”
“You’re fine, cupcake stealer.”
He took the last half of the cupcake and lifted it to his mouth, smearing the pale yellow and blue icing along his top lip. He leaned closer. “How about now?”
She laughed and darted away before he could get her sticky. “You’re a disaster!” His hand snaked around her waist, and she squealed and giggled as he drew her to his side. “You’ll make me drop my cupcakes.”
“When you two are done flirting”—Dylan O’Neill stood on the porch with his crutches, looking amused—“your mom wants to know if you fixed that last chair.”
Maverick groaned and released Daisy-Mae. “I thought making it into the NHL would get her to ease up on the chores.”
“I heard that,” his mom, Carol, said from the doorway. “And the only way I’m letting up is when you get married and have somebody else nagging you to get these things done. There’s more to life than hockey.”
Maverick and Dylan laughed, knowing that when the team was in season, there really wasn’t much more to life than hockey, as much as their families wished there was.
Dylan and Carol filtered back into the house with Maverick and Daisy-Mae trailing behind.
“And Maverick, wash your face,” Carol scolded, popping her head through the doorway as they approached.
Maverick’s tongue flicked at his lips guiltily as they stepped into the entry, and Daisy-Mae laughed. “You’d better wash up.”
“Good idea.” He tagged her lightly on the hip, pivoting into a room immediately to the right.
Daisy-Mae took in his house from the front door. It smelled like turkey, seasonings, and a home with history. The floors were wood, shining from their recent abuse with a sander and layers of new finish. The odd dark gouge or scratch showed through, proved their originality, giving the home character. The walls had the unevenness that spoke of lathe and plaster, and she could see some partially completed projects from where she stood.
To her right, the sound of running water trickled her way from where a small bathroom had been tucked. There was a short wall between the powder room doorway and a staircase leading up to the second floor. She stepped forward, checking her hair in the mirror above the small table Carol had picked up last weekend.
The house was smaller than she had expected but gave the illusion of being larger due to the sunshine streaming in from the living room just beyond the staircase.
Daisy-Mae set her purse on the table’s lower braces, which had been made to also serve as a shelf. As she straightened with her cupcakes, her eyes caught on the items resting on the table. A wooden bowl with a few sets of car keys. Maverick’s, no doubt. Beside that sat a small, clear stand-up frame meant for rare hockey cards. But inside was something homemade. Something familiar.
With her heart beating, she set down her container and picked up the case, staring at the card she’d created almost fifteen years ago. Maybe more.
An old, last-minute birthday present she’d made for Maverick. The hockey card was worn, tattered along the corners, and appeared as though it had been folded in half at one point.
She smiled at the details she’d put into the card. She’d cut out a candid photo of Maverick’s face, gluing it on the two-and-a-half by three-and-a-half-inch piece of card stock. Then she’d drawn and colored in the rest of the hockey player’s body. His name was written above with his old junior number, thirteen. Serendipitously, she’d colored his jersey gold, green, and black. The Dragons’ colors.
She turned the case over, reading the back of the card. She’d listed his player stats such as his height, weight, position, and age, and then had made up further information. It was startlingly close to the truth. When she read the last line, she laughed out loud.
Maverick appeared beside her, his face freshly washed. “My mom found that in my things and had it framed. Crazy how close to true it is.”
She showed him the back. “I was your agent!” She laughed again. “What was I thinking when I made this?”
His hands weaved their way around her waist, holding her close. “You’d make a great agent.”
“Because I said princesses don’t belong in the NHL and that you deserved better?”
“You protect my image better than my actual agent does sometimes, but that’s not the reason I’m glad you’re not my agent.” He dropped a kiss on her nose.
“And why’s that?”
“Because instead you get to be my girlfriend.”
* * *
Maverick was bringing the fixed chair in from the barn when he overheard Violet say to Daisy-Mae, “I thought you two were trying to get more publicity around your relationship.”
“We are,” Daisy-Mae said, laying out the silverware. “It’s just hard finding something genuine.”
“Here’s the chair,” Maverick said, sliding it into place at the table the women were setting up for dinner.
Daisy-Mae gave him a weak, guilty smile and he gave a shrug to indicate he didn’t mind them talking about the business side of their relationship—as long as his mom didn’t overhear.
“You two need to do something big,” Violet said. “Maverick, be a man and kiss the living daylights out of this woman on the Jumbotron.” She gestured to Daisy-Mae, who blushed in her rosy pink sweater.
“I can see you’re thinking about it!” Violet exclaimed. “Make sure you always keep your hair perfect,” she said to Daisy-Mae. “Oh, who am I kidding? You’re always perfect.”
Maverick agreed. He also liked Violet’s loyalty.
“Thanks for inviting us to your testosterone zone,” Violet said.
Maverick rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to tell Myles and Dak that he didn’t want women here. He would never live it down.
“You bet,” he said.
Honestly, now that they were here, he realized how immature his proclamation had been. Friends—of any sex—made a house feel like a home.
“But I think it needs some womanly touches. What do you think?” Violet shifted a centerpiece left, then right. “It’s a housewarming gift from me and Daisy-Mae. We found it at the church rummage sale and it just screamed ‘Maverick.’ We knew you had to have it.”
He rolled his eyes. It was the ugliest fake floral arrangement he’d ever seen.
Violet giggled. “Just kidding.” She took the basket of faded flowers and drop-kicked it into the living room, sending dust and petals flying. “Daisy-Mae found it on the back porch when we were feeding Milo.”
“Who’s—oh, Dak’s dog? He can come in.” He glanced around. “Where is Dak?”
“He and Dylan are chatting out in the yard,” Daisy-Mae replied. She added in a whisper, “Jenny’s out there, too. I think she has a crush on Dylan.”
“Totally reciprocated,” Violet chimed in.
Maverick’s mom came through the kitchen doorway to check on the table. “It’s looking good, ladies. Thank you.” She frowned at the scattered flowers behind Violet. “Didn’t we throw that out?”
“Milo found it,” Daisy-Mae said.
“Oh.”
“The bin,” Maverick said, realizing why the arrangement had appeared slightly familiar. There was a massive bin for his renovation trash out front, as well as for the few household effects that had been left behind. How the dog had retrieved the arrangement was anyone’s guess.
“I should schedule the truck to come empty it.”
“I can do it if you give me the number.”
“The floors look really good, Carol,” Daisy-Mae said.
“They do, don’t they?” She smiled.
Maverick still saw projects everywhere he looked, but the house was coming along quickly. “Thanks for arranging to have them done.”
“I had an ulterior motive,” she said with a wink.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“You were using it as an excuse not to get furniture. I don’t know how long you planned to live like a nomad.” She turned to Daisy-Mae. “He was sleeping on a mattress tossed on the floor and living out of a suitcase.”
“Really?” Daisy-Mae gave him a funny look.
“In the summer I planned to take care of some of this stuff.”
“That’s exactly what I was afraid of. You’d be exhausted from the season and hire it out again. I hope you’re ready to keep this man in line, Daisy-Mae. Whenever he’s given the chance he turns into a minimalist hermit or hires someone to make his place look as generic as a chain hotel.” A timer in the kitchen went off, and his mom zipped back through the doorway.
“What’s wrong with that?” Maverick asked as he and Daisy-Mae followed. She shrugged.
His mom pulled a steaming dish from the oven and answered, “You can afford to live in a place that feels and looks like a home. You didn’t even have a shower curtain!”
“So?”
Daisy-Mae was watching the conversation unfold with interest.
“You were ruining your wooden baseboards with all the splashing!”
Daisy-Mae giggled, ducking from the room to answer Violet’s call about which side the water glasses went on.
“You’re embarrassing me, Mom,” he said quietly. He knew he didn’t need to impress Daisy-Mae, but that didn’t mean the instinct wasn’t still there.
His mom brushed off his comment. “Daisy-Mae needs to know what she’s getting herself into.”
“She’s not getting into anything.”
His mom whirled, eyebrows raised. “What does that mean? You’re not serious about her? Because you look serious.”
“I just… I uh…”
“Uh, what?”
Man, his mom had a way of nailing him to the wall, didn’t she? He was head over heels for Daisy-Mae, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his mother.
His mom turned back to the stove, stirring and poking at her various pots. “Did you plan to hold her at arm’s length forever and never invite her over? You have to let women into your life, Maverick. Especially girlfriends. You shouldn’t need your mother setting you up all the time.”
“Hey, I asked her out, didn’t I?” With some help from Louis.
His mom jammed her fists down on her hips, her eyes boring into him. “A woman like Daisy-Mae won’t wait forever. She’s looking for deep and forever, not some man who’s never going to let her into his life and heart.”
“I’m letting her in.”
“Then why does she look like you’re going to boot her out of here?”
“I’m not,” he said with a laugh. “I like her being here, actually. Even though this was my woman-free zone.”
“Oh, don’t be so third grade.” His mom pointed a wooden spoon at him. “She learned her lesson with Myles. She’s not going to wait around until you figure out if you want her or not.”
“So I should propose to her after dessert and scare her off?” he snapped, frustrated at his mom’s pushing. He didn’t want to ruin things with Daisy-Mae. She was too important.
“Don’t be sassy. You know what I mean. Your career keeps you on the road and busy so much of the time. Make sure you show the woman you care about that she matters to you.”
Maverick sighed. He understood what this was about now.
“She’s not like Janie. She understands my schedule. She works for the team, remember?”
“Knowing and feeling are two different things. Let her know she’s welcome here.”
“She is welcome.”
“She wants something real.” She was eyeing him again. “And you need to figure out what you want.”
Maverick muttered, “I know what I want.”
He wasn’t like Myles when, only a year ago, his friend had used him as a sounding board to help him figure out if Daisy-Mae was The One and if he should reignite things between them again.
If a woman was The One, you shouldn’t have to ask a friend. You just knew.
And unlike Myles, he didn’t have to ask anyone.
* * *
Daisy-Mae held Maverick’s hand as Leo, the team’s rookie, said grace. Several players from the team had joined them for supper since they had played a Thanksgiving game last night and didn’t have time to fly home to visit their families for the holiday.
This was Daisy-Mae’s second meal since she’d spent last night with her parents, her father managing to get the day off for the first time in eons. More years than not, her mother’s lack of interest in the holiday had sent Daisy-Mae to spend Thanksgiving at the Wylders’ as an extension of their large family. This year, even though it felt slightly awkward being in Maverick’s woman-free zone, she hoped this new NHL family filled the large Wylder family void.
To her right, at the head of the table, was Maverick. His mother, Carol, was at the opposite end. Violet was to Daisy-Mae’s left, and Leo had grabbed a seat beside her. Across from Daisy-Mae was Dak, one of Maverick’s old friends, who now worked with the Dragons Charity for Sick Kids. Beside him sat Jenny, a friend who owned the Blue Tumbleweed clothing store in town and who had been flirting and joking with Dylan, a player roughly the same age as Maverick, all evening.
As Leo finished saying grace, Daisy-Mae kept her eyes closed for an extra second, making a silent wish that her friends Jenny and Violet would soon find reciprocated true love. As she opened her eyes, she realized she probably should’ve made the wish for herself as well.
“Are we missing someone?” Daisy-Mae asked, referring to ninth chair which sat empty. Carol had insisted they buy it, and Maverick had fixed it as though it would be needed tonight. But there were only eight people at the table.
“You always want to have an extra chair,” Carol said.
“It’s a thing,” Maverick mumbled to Daisy-Mae.
“A sign of a welcoming home,” Carol said to Daisy-Mae as though this explained everything.
“It’s for unexpected guests,” Maverick whispered.
“Spirits?” Violet whispered loudly, leaning forward, her round eyes on Carol.
Jenny giggled and shook her head at Violet.
By the time dessert rolled around—pie and cupcakes—the table had gotten louder and louder with laughter and stories.
“You don’t get dessert on your plan,” Dylan said to Maverick, hobbling over in his air cast to swipe the cupcake off his plate.
“What?” Maverick looked so startled Daisy-Mae started laughing. Across from her, Dak joined in.
“You’re almost as old as I am!” Maverick made a grab for the cupcake, but Dylan licked the top of it, claiming it.
“You’re both too old to have dessert,” Leo called out.
Dylan and Maverick, both close to aging out of the NHL, turned to him, their expressions dark.
Leo gripped the edge of the table as though preparing to run, his eyes wide.
“What was that, Socks?” Maverick asked, his voice low.
“You calling us old?” Dylan chimed in.
“Just sayin’…” Leo pushed his chair back a bit. “You know…with your broken foot and all… Rehab might be lengthy at your age and you might not—”
Dylan made a quick motion on his good foot as though he was going to lunge at Leo. The rookie jumped up so fast his chair tipped back and hit the floor.
The table erupted in laughter.
“I wasn’t scared,” Leo said, cautiously shuffling back to his seat again, trying not to smile.
“Sure, sure,” Dylan said, taking his spot across from him while keeping a steady gaze on him.
“Socks?” Violet giggled. “Is that your team nickname? I had a cat named Socks.”
“I had a mare with that name,” Carol said calmly, obviously used to meal-time shenanigans—even at Thanksgiving.
“Can I have another?” Maverick asked Daisy-Mae, gesturing to the cupcake plate.
“Oops,” Dak said, grabbing the last one as Daisy-Mae passed the plate. He took a giant bite.
“I used to call you a friend,” Maverick said with a fake glower.
“You had one earlier, Maverick. Don’t think we didn’t notice,” his mom said.
“Uh, how is your foot?” Leo asked Dylan as the man continued to glare at him from across the table.
“I’ll hire the best when it’s time to rehab. I’ll pour my life into it.”
“What I wouldn’t do for a good deal and a pile of money in the bank,” Leo said wistfully. “I’ve been chasing after Family Zone. I always envisioned representing them.”
“They don’t work with hockey players,” Dak said.
“They should,” Daisy-Mae said supportively. “They practically have their own team.”
“Right?” Leo said. “And they’re loaded. Theme parks, stores, teams, movies and TV. All kinds of crazy licensing and merch. I wish they wanted me.”
Daisy-Mae met Maverick’s eyes and he nodded slightly as though he, too, was wondering if they could somehow help Leo. She turned back to him, casually asking, “What do you need in order to get a deal with a company like that?”
“They want a family man. Squeaky clean. And I am!”
“You have a family?” Violet asked, her eyes dropping to his ring finger. Daisy-Mae noted the disappointment, even though his ring finger was bare.
“No, but he does a lot of squeaking,” Maverick said with a smirk. Dak gave a snort of amused approval at the dig and held out his fist for a bump from his friend.
Daisy-Mae was learning quickly that the NHL was like its own family. With players often working far from home, they seemed to take each other in like brothers, looking out for each other, teasing each other, and sharing moments. As an only child, she loved it and wanted to be a part of it forever.
“I go to church, I volunteer,” Leo said, ignoring the ribbing. “I’m helping with the team’s charity for sick kids. I don’t swear. I’m always polite and always helpful.”
“You’re a rookie,” Maverick said gently.
“But I’m twenty-seven! I’m not even that young. I had deals on the bull riding circuit. Why not here, too?”
“You’re young and unproven to these sponsors. They’re waiting for you to go wild and crazy. You have time to earn your chops and get a big deal like Family Zone. Keep your eye on it and keep working them.”
“I want this,” Leo said, clenching his fork tightly.
“What’s the rush?” Daisy-Mae asked.
“I want to make my money, and I want to get out. I want to raise a family, and actually be around for my kids.” Leo’s eyes met hers, bright and determined. He knew what his dream was, and he would get there. She knew that just by looking at him. “I want to be there when my kids take their first steps, when they say their first words. I don’t want to be across the continent playing in a game and getting smashed into the boards, worried that I’m going to shatter my spine and not be able to do everything I want to with my family. There’s a reason I left bull riding five years ago. Now I’m here, but I feel less in control of my future than when I was on top of bulls.”
Daisy-Mae sighed. This man knew what he wanted. No conflicting reservations like she sometimes saw in Maverick. Then again, he was new to the team and didn’t have the weight of the entire team resting on his shoulders. He could afford to be self-centered when it came to his career.
“Well,” Daisy-Mae said after clearing her throat, noting that Violet was looking at Leo, slightly doe-eyed, “if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
Maverick took her hand on top of the table and gave it a squeeze. Dak gave them a look of surprise.
His best pal. Maverick hadn’t even told his best pal about them? They were supposed to be shouting it to the world through a megaphone.
Violet knew the full scoop and was rooting for them, but meanwhile Dak didn’t even know Maverick was seeing someone—her. What did that mean? Was he trying to keep her in a work-only box? Don’t tell your BFF, don’t invite your gal into your woman-free zone?
“We’ll think of something big,” Daisy-Mae said, taking her hand back from Maverick’s, feeling a tiny bit like she was getting in faster and deeper than Maverick was. She stood, starting to collect the dessert plates.
“Maverick, honey, can you start the coffee?” his mom asked. He stood and moved to the kitchen as Jenny and Dylan continued to tease and flirt at their end of the table. Carol asked hesitantly, “Are you two dating?”
Jenny said easily, “Sure, I’m his girlfriend. I have a thing for hockey players.” She rolled her eyes, but Daisy-Mae noticed that her cheeks had gone pink.
Dylan replied quickly, “I’m going to hold you to that.”
Jenny shifted in her chair so she could face him more fully. “I’d like to see you try.”
Daisy-Mae shot Maverick a look as they crossed paths in the kitchen doorway. Things were about to get fun. He took the pile of plates from her and she returned to her seat.
“I always need someone to be my plus one,” Dylan was saying.
“Are you asking me if I’m interested in dating you?”
“Are you?”
“I don’t know. Do you make the woman foot the bill?”
He looked offended, and Carol’s eyes danced. She winked at Daisy-Mae as though she’d planned this, and Daisy-Mae grinned back. Maybe her earlier wish for her friends and their love lives would come true.
“How about holding the door open for me?” Jenny narrowed her eyes, assessing the built man sitting beside her. Dylan was a goofy, off-the-cuff kind of guy. Daisy-Mae would be surprised if anything came from this. Especially since Jenny rarely dated. But watching them spar and flirt was fun. It reminded her of the way she and Maverick verbally danced sometimes.
“Depends,” Dylan replied. “Do you like it when men do that? Or do you find it annoying?”
“Annoying.”
“Good. Then I won’t. Unless you’re wearing an impossible dress and need help to get out of the car.”
“Do I look like I wear impossible dresses?”
“You own a clothing store. You might.”
“She doesn’t,” Violet stated.
“And you drive a car?” Jenny asked. “Not a truck?”
“I do. Problem with that?”
“I don’t know. Do you have a problem with the fact that I drive a truck?”
Maverick sucked in a breath as he sat again, no doubt very aware of the traps Jenny was laying at Dylan’s feet. Daisy-Mae had a feeling Dylan could see them and was enjoying the challenge.
“My masculinity is safe and sound,” Dylan said leaning back and crossing his arms. “So tell me more about how you go ga-ga for hockey stars?”
Beside her Maverick laughed, and Violet let out an “Oh, trouble!”
“Some star you are! You’re benched, my friend.” Leo winked at Jenny. “I’m a star though.”
“One without a deal,” she retorted, and Leo clutched his chest with a dramatic flourish. Dylan gave Leo a triumphant smirk.
“We’ll get you a deal,” Violet whispered supportively, rubbing his shoulder.
Jenny propped an elbow on the table, her brown hair cascading over her shoulders as she carefully watched Dylan. “I own my own business. I’m too busy to fawn over your stardom.”
Dylan gave her a dazzling smile. “Yeah?”
Jenny sat back in her chair as though the conversation was over. “This was a very good meal, Carol. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I think you two have more to discuss. Have you been to that restaurant with all the hubcaps out on the highway. Myles loves it. What’s it called Maverick?”
He shrugged.
“It’s closed for renovations,” Daisy-Mae said. “They had a flood.”
“Well then—”
“Thanks, Carol,” Dylan interrupted. “But I don’t think it would work out with Jenny. I like having a girlfriend who’s around.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be around! I just happen to be busy too.”
“Yes, very good supper,” Violet said quickly, the rest of the table chiming in.
Jenny’s cheeks were pink, and her hands were clutched into fists on the tabletop. “It’s not about stardom,” Jenny said. “It’s about time. Making time even if you’re both busy. If you love someone and they’re important to you, you find the time.”
“So wanna go on a date?” Dylan asked quietly.
At the end of the table, Carol’s eyes danced and her chest expanded as she held her breath for Jenny’s reply.
“Sure. Maybe. I don’t know,” Jenny said, clearly flustered. “Call me.”
Daisy-Mae felt a warm hand squeeze hers. Maverick was watching her with a soft smile. He said quietly, “I’m glad we had the time for this supper tonight.”
“Me, too.”
He was a busy man with his career, commuting, renovating his house, and maintaining a close relationship with his mom. And yet he still found time to spend with her, to treat her right. And even though he was slow to allow her fully into his life, it was because he was careful with his trust. Being invited here along with a few of her friends to celebrate a holiday with him, his mom, and his friends was a big step. An important one where they would begin to blend their lives.
It felt like he was not only inviting her into his life but also to become a part of his family.